Dybbuk Dzuki Michiko
by Taishu Tsukitai
Summary: A young man joins the F.O.E. Military, and soon becomes the first Newtype since White Base, gaining rank, honor, and respect. Too bad all he wanted was some cash. Prepping for life can be the death of you. Slightly AU, all OC's. My first Fic R&R!


_**Part 1 - All In The Plan**_

_Disclaimer: 'Gundam', 'White Base', 'Jaburo', 'Luna II', 'Char Aznable', and some other cameo itemsare property of their rightful owners, not me. However, most characters and things in this piece and the chapters that will follow are my own, including, but not limited to, Ark Zasha, Michiko Zasha, and Elyahu Dovichev (The Guy With the Yarmulke, in this chapter)._

* * *

Someone once told me that once I was in, I could never go back to Earth again, really... I could never get back to the real world. They told me that as soon as a signed my name in blood upon that paper, I was in this for life. That I would never have a family, I would never find love. That I would live as a soldier and die as a soldier for my side, and that was it. In retrospect, she had been right, I guess. But back then? Nah. She couldn't be more wrong. This was quick money. This was my way to support myself and get through college and go into my real life head-on and well-rounded. Secretly, this was my way to afford her love in truth. At least, that had been the plan. I had gone into the reserves not intending to actually pilot a suit. Not intending to leave Earth. Moreover, not intending to leave her side, never. But then, I got good at it. Too good. And now, here I am, covered in biotic metal, crouching behind the remains of the last team that had tried this. 

This isn't a mission anymore. This is a mass suicide. We're nothing more than kamikaze now.

* * *

I guess it all started back on Earth, though in the end, everything starts in heaven, I'd like to think. The older recruits glared at the long brown locks atop my young scalp. I had gotten into this late enough to avoid the stupid head-shaving ritual that had been customary back a few years ago. They said it made us soldiers. One day, I guess someone told them that it just made us look stupid, and they listened to him. So here I was with the bald vets, combing my hair back over my ear with my bitten fingernails and smirking at them. If they were stupid enough to do this while the act was being passed, that wasn't really my problem. Of course, I took to heart that I had only missed that fate by a couple months, but still... 

The Pale Training Facilities... generally called 'The Other White Base' by the recruits here... was not exactly named carefully. Its dark golden and midnight black interiors were a foreboding embodiment of foreshadow. It was shaped as a pentagon... I guess it was a military joke. It has something to do with a building that once existed in America. No idea about it, really... anyway, there are bunkers in two of the sides. Little things. Metal frames and pale yellow sheets with black pillows. Ugly, I had thought then, but I'd kill for a chance to be back there now. And I very well might. Heh. I hate irony. Another side was dedicated to a military library with texts ranging from Sun-Tzu to Char Aznable. It was twice as depressing as the bunkers, I'll tell you. The other two sides are garages, but we didn't know what was in them, then. I had a hunch that it was some sort of new Mobile Suit. I was close, really. Damn close.

The center of The Other White Base was where we trained. Enough said. We trained our asses off. Moving on.

I had never been one to care about the Earthling race as a whole. I cared about two people; Michiko and myself. And that's in order. That was it. I didn't even believe in this whole Federation of Earth versus the Principality of Zeon war, either. As far as I was concerned, if they were trying to kill us and I could make some credits blowing up some of their metal, then I wouldn't have to feel a thing. It's not like I was going to crush their heads or castrate them or anything brutal. I was going to shoot them, maybe slice them in half. Little pain. Quick kills. Humane, really. Once again, moving on.

The commander was pacing in front of a simulator or something. A tall man with bulging eyes and bugged-out pectorals. Greyed beard and no hair. Looks like someone out of a comic book named 'Dr. Obliterate' or something dumb like that. A class 'A' ass. The Simulator was far more interesting than he was, though. A giant ball inside another giant ball. Enough room to house all the controls that a normal Machine would have. Some real technology. I'll admit that at the time, I was pretty giddy about it. All this reading that they told us to do was finally going to pay off. I had done something like this on New Coney Island when I was a kid. I had loved it, I tell you. Didn't lose my lunch or anything. As the commander blathered on, I examined the machine a bit more while taking in his words with my ears. I trusted that my subconscious could take care of it. It always had before. The thing was a plastic blue, a nice contrast to the tacky bright yellow and black interiors of the steel bunkers, here. The door to the simulator-thing was aligned and open, so we were able to see inside. From my training so far, I had recognized everything there; the walking controls, scanners, distance controls, radar controls, video-screens, walkers... something was different, though. There was no vision. Hence, I figured that it was some sort of trainer. Good. We needed some in-the-field, I figured. And it looked pretty sturdy, too. Was that real gundanium there...?

"Zasha! Are you listening to me or are you just lacking proper conduct, as always?" The commander screamed at me. His spittle started to run down his face a little. I raised an eyebrow and wiped some of it off of my covered chest before looking at him straight on.

"I heard every word." I said, yawning wide. It was only seven, after all. I was tired.

"Really? The repeat it, smudge." He said, his eyes twitching. I cleared my throat loudly. Just to piss him off. I could tell that half the soldiers here thought that I was going to mess up. I loved being a surprise.

"This machine is called the GFBSPRM, or the Gundam Field Battle Simulation Projection/Reaction machine." My voice was low and exaggerated, just like the commander's own. I smiled and continued as he shut up entirely and frowned so that I could swear that his jaw was going to fall off. "To use it is basically the same as using an actual NTS-P model gundam. The only difference is that if you mess up, you don't necessarily die. It is set to that your reaction speed is increased by .0095 seconds and assumes that the pilot is five feet, three inches tall. All the controls are set to the gravity you would be feeling at 400 miles from the field of gravity, and so it's easier to move them. This is your final..." He paused a little and shrugged. "...And then you started to needlessly yell at me and disrupted your own inspirational speech. Bravo."

The commander growled, but turned sharply and walked back to the front of the group. I win.

"Anyway, this is your final test, You've all been here for half a year and know what to do. I will call you up in alphabetical order and you will take the test. 1,700 people will take the test. The best 300 will be dismissed from training to be set on call. The best 100 will be taken directly to the Headquarters to undergo General Training. The best five scores will see me for further, private orders. The rest of you will take another course of training which will not count towards your total time in the service. Please come when you are called, otherwise return to your bunker until your name is called. Abery! Adam Abery!"

Returning to my bunker was still a little depressing. I wanted into that orb. If I could get in, chances were that I'd be within the top 300 and be dismissed. And then I could get my cash and get out and get back to Michiko again. That had always been the plan, and it had worked, or so I'd thought. I lay on my bet, khakis on and shirt off, as my bunkmates ran around wildly, or studied their material, or wrote to their loved ones that they wouldn't be coming home for another few months. However, I knew that I would be going home, or at the very least I'd be going to General Training, and that was just me telling people what to do. Either way, Generals never died. That's why they're always the ones in the history books in school. So either way, it was all going to plan. I would do fine.

* * *

:Johan Vic: 

The name blasted this time so loudly that I couldn't ignore it, even in my sleep. My hair matted and my ears ringing, I got up. Vic... so we were relatively close to my turn. I guessed that the test would have to start pretty hardcore to slash out this many people so fast. In the end, though, we still had a couple of hundred more people to go. I shot my eyes out to the other bunks to make sure I was alone before taking a small, leather-bound book out from under my bed and flipping it open to a random page. Inside it were fortunes. You know, like the ones you used to find all the time in restaurants, apparently. Well, of course they're a little more rare, now, and my collection's pretty overwhelming. I have these things lined up, rows and rows of them. She gave me my first one, and it simply said, 'Love'. And so we started to go out. I guess that's why I collect these things. I keep waiting for one that says 'Marry Me?', but apparently those ones were pretty rare, because I haven't found a one yet. When I do, that's what I'm proposing to her with. Hey, I still think I'm getting back to Earth, even if I'm on a suicide mission as I'm thinking this is. And even if... well, that's no if. She's alive. Moving...on...Yeah.

Reading through a few fortunes, I couldn't help thinking of her. A lot. Her short hair and slim shoulders. That certain way that she stretches out that always ends up with her breasts in my face. I think she does it on purpose because she knows I'm a virgin and that fact annoys her because she certainly isn't. As I was lost in my breasty, breasty thoughts, I hear a name over the bunker speaker.

:Zasha! Ark Zasha:

Ark Zasha, huh? Wow, come to think of it, that's a really odd name. I wonder which of us that was...?

Oh, that's right. That's me. I'm Ark Zasha.

* * *

I arrived at the central area of the grounds to see the machine, set up and ready for me. The commander was standing next to it, his arms crossed. I could swear that a little spittle from before was still on his cheek. I made sure to stifle a laugh. I didn't want him to have less of a reason for everybody to hate him. Besides, I had things to do now. Like show him up. 

"Ah, Zasha, you actually came. Maybe you're not totally useless after all. For my sake, I hope you do well on this. I don't want to be stuck with you for another six months." The commander glared at me and I flashed him a winning grin.

"Hey, no worries. Who knows? I do well enough, and I'm going home. And then, another six months, my call passes, and I'll never have to see your ugly mug again." On second thought, he could break the machine while I'm in there, I thought. "...with all due respect, sir." Oh, wait. Even now, I'm realizing that hadn't come out right.

"Just get in there, smudge, before I just jettison you into Zeon territory with an 'I love the EF' flag attached." The commander's insults were really quite bad. I mean, that wasn't an insult. That was dying for my cause. Now that I look to it all, turns out, I'm probably gonna be doing that now, anyway. Damn.

I entered the GFBSPRM with a cocky heir that made the commander simply glad to slam the doors behind me. I nuzzled my buttocks into the cushioned-metal seat, looking at the screen. It was now illuminated by light, displaying a launch pad, probably set on the surface of Luna II or Jaburo. Nice landscape, I had thought. I set my feet on the acceleration mechanism and places my hands on the drivers and weapons controls.

:Not so fast, Zasha. Now, here's your mission: The commander's voice cracked over the speakers. :There's an asteroid storm here in sector 2375, and you need to navigate back to the battle inside Jaburo. You currently have no missiles, no bullets, no beam chargers, and no shield, however you may take them from fallen people. Unlike a real battle, if you touch the equipment, you will have it in your arsenal. You will launch in... Ten...Nine...:

I rolled my eyes. "Just start this thing up." I buckled myself in and smiled. "This is for you, Michiko."

The simulation began.

* * *

The darkness was vast and powerful as I kicked off from the ground. The baron nature of the space around the made me, of all things, claustrophobic. But then, that was a good thing; it meant that I was pretty damn afraid of the space debris falling towards me on the way to my destination, apparently about four miles north. Between it and me were hundreds of giant rocks, and... units. Zeonic units. I quickly grabbed the radar lever and yanked down to run a Unit Scan of the area and was relieved to see what it was; only a couple old Zaku units. One of two Zaku II's. Without my ammunition or my beam sword, I couldn't come into direct contact with them... but maybe I didn't have to. I used my feet to operate my walkers left. The rocks missed my shoulder, but my suit... I mean, my GFBSPRM... rocked uncomfortably. But, as I had expected, the closest Zaku had moved to face me. So, the AI on this machine was still primitive. That made things easier. 

:Zasha, what are you doing? Your target is not to the west: The commander screamed. I laughed.

"I'll get there. I have some business to tend to." I replied before starting to shoot into a figure-8 pattern. The Zaku's couldn't get a track on me, I guess, because they stopped altogether.

Within a minute, Zaku debris scattered the area, and I scrambled around, grabbing up their Heat Hawks and guns and munitions. I could hear the commander grumble on the other end. In the meantime, the rocks were now small and sparse, and I now had enough ammunition to take out anything. At least, that was the plan.

Jetting forth, I stayed close to the surface of the planet as not to draw attention to myself. It seemed to work, because nothing attacked me. Soon enough, I was at the doorway into Jaburo.

"Not bad. Multi-colored metallic rendering. A couple of our people. Good job on this machine, sir!" I said over the speaker.

:Shut up, smudge. Your mission is to break through the wall to the East and then navigate your way through the hallways. Of course, there will be more enemies along the way. You are to avoid civilians and unarmed soldiers.: The speakers blared. I wondered if I'd have to put up with this if I really DID get to piloting.

Nodding silently, I took a Heat Hawk from my side and looked around at the collection of suits. I could tell what they were without any help from my scanners; Rick-Dom's. Powerful things. Couldn't be hurt with long-range weaponry, and happened to all be equipped with beam cannons. All of which became centered on me as my shoulda-been comrades fell over. I threw myself inside the middle of a group and counted them; six. Usually, this would be a bad thing, but these weren't real; they were AI. I knew how AI worked. Centering myself, I waited for the machines to charge up their cannons, gleaming white. The purple surfaces of the suits seemed to glisten with sweat. Once I was sure they couldn't turn back from the shot, I threw myself down onto the ground, causing the machine I was REALLY in to shake violently. I was alright, though... and my plan worked perfectly. I got up and looked around and the six Rick-Dom shells, now with large cannon holes in them. Using my Heat Hawk, I mauled of one of the arms and pried the cannon off. Aiming and firing. And moving. Before I needed to take care, the wall fell away, and I hacked off another arm and took another cannon.

:What the hell are you doing? You can't use that gun: The commander's voice cried out as if I was choking him.

"Why now? The Rick-Dom's fingers are thicker than the ones I am using. Since all of the NTS models have double-strength arm tendons, I can lift the cannon easily. And to be frank sir, the easy answer is that I AM holding it. And I just did use it. So I guess it's mine." I made my suit shrug before going into a hover and moving along the corridors.

I'll admit to 'killing' one or two people on the way to the first suit blocking my way, but since this was just a program, I had no reason to feel remorse. I kept going, overshooting a couple turns. It took a good twenty minutes to navigate the first set, and when I got to the end, a gleaming green Zock blocked me. That is, until I shot it with my cannon, taking it to pieces. The explosion effects in this program, I had noted, were quite mediocre. It just blew up. No debris hit me; that probably would have happened in a real blast like that. It's broken shell floated in the anti-gravity air for a moment before I took the intact top of the head and used it as a shield. Hovering through to the end of the thing, I saw a room. This one was all metal, and in the center was a giant bomb.

:I hate you, you know. Alright, disarm the bomb and get out; they plan to drop it on our base in four minutes or some plot point like that...:

I raised an eyebrow. "That's stupid. Goodbye!" I deactivated the speakers before aiming my cannon to the ceiling and using the last of it's energy to cut a hole in the steel... apparently possible in this digital world. I rocketed up to the top and flew out into space, looking down. I kept the bomb in site before hurling my last Heat Hawk through the hole I had made and at the bomb.

* * *

Suddenly, the machine just stopped. I unbuckled and flipped out of the machine, now upside-down. My feet hit the ground, sending shocks up my legs. It felt good to be on land. 

"Well, that was fun! Thanks for that opportunity, Commander." I said, shaking his hand numbly as his face contorted into a pale impersonation of himself in a really bad mood.

"So, I guess I go get food now?"

Nothing.

"Alright, 'en. G'night, sir!"

* * *

The mess hall was, as usual, dark, and crowded. It's chrome interior and pale black floors (if that's even possible) were a hefty, burdenous reminder that I sure as anything was not home. Home in my nice, blue kitchen with it's nice wooden floors and it's nice cloud-silver sconces. Every night back there, I would throw something onto my clean stovetop, cook it up, and slap it on the table for Michiko, who, inevitably, would walk in the door a couple minutes later and throw her arms around me. I remember that it was at just one of these dinners not half a year ago that I told her that I was joining the reserves. Her usual embrace was laced with a wetness that ran from her eyes to her cheeks to my back, already soaked through with dreaded sweat. There was little I had missed in my time here, but Michiko... what I wouldn't give for ten minutes with her now. I had done this for her. I was still doing it for her. And what I'm doing right now... crouching behind a meteor, about to get obliterated by a particle cannon mounted to a lunatic Zeon's left arm... I'm doing this for her, too. And I don't regret it, either. I won't regret it until I know beyond any shadow of a doubt that I'll never see her again. And I still think I might. I just have to not die... shouldn't be too hard. And then I have to go home and make sure that she's there. And she's there. She has to be there. She can't be... I know they say she's dead, but I don't buy that. She's alive. Yup. She's alive. It's not like they found a body yet. Until I see the thing myself I'm not buying it. 

I'd like to take this time to damn the Zeon. It won't be the last time before I die.

The line was short for the gruel they fed us, but I graciously accepted it and slid it over to a table where a couple people sat. One was wearing a silver Yarmulke and speaking with a thin Israeli accent to the others.

"I will tell you that we are lucky just to eat. And as long as it's kosher..." He said before lifting his black plastic cup of what I can only assume was Manishevitz and smiling broad, "Lechaim!"

The others lifted their cans of Cola or beer and gulped deep. I hadn't bothered with a drink, so I just lifted my empty glass and pretended to drink. The guy with the Yarmulke looked at me for a second before laughing mildly. "Ah, so you do not have the fruit of the vine? No matter, no matter, friend, I have more!" He said, and without my permission, poured the remainder of a bottle of Manishevitz into my cup. I raised it, nodded, and, if memory served, finished it quickly enough to avoid any possible intoxication.

"So, friend! How did you to on the test?" The guy asked loudly. The others cringed. I laughed.

"I finished." I said simply, fishing up another mouth-full of slop.

It was as if the world had stopped. I felt 1700 pairs of eyes on me. To be blunt, it unnerved me. A lot. Slowly, I chewed, looking around at all the faces.

"What?" I said impatiently, swallowing hard. "Get back to your food, huh?" With that, I gulped down my remaining gruel speedily and left before cleaning. I wasn't sure, but I could swear that the Yarmulke guy smiled and nodded as if to say, "See you in the top five". I didn't know it at the time, but that's where I was going to end up.

For better or for worse.

No, scratch that. Worse. Just worse.

* * *

Please R&R, and stay tuned for Part Two! 


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